


like a dying star (you fade)

by vreaa



Series: calando [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, he forgets, no beta just me myself and my typos, pain pain only pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vreaa/pseuds/vreaa
Summary: Sapnap sinks into him like he's done so many times before, and theyfit. Just like they always do. Just like they always will, even when the last traces of their time together fade from Karl's mind, even when Sapnap's touch becomes foreign and unfamiliar to Karl's skin, even when Karl leaves, leaves Sapnap with empty arms and an emptier heart, with a cold chest and the bittersweet knowledge thatthey'd been perfect, once.—Or, Karl forgets, slowly but surely, and there's nothing Sapnap can do but watch.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: calando [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154402
Comments: 85
Kudos: 338





	like a dying star (you fade)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enigmxa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmxa/gifts).



> i don't even have anything to say i just saw amazing art and Brainrotted that's it that's the whole origin story
> 
> also looped [jealous](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50VWOBi0VFs) by labrinth and [emily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAJr0bzOe6A) by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler which probably explains the angst LMAO

"I think I'm forgetting, Sapnap."

The sky rumbles outside. In the living room, shadows creep across Karl's face — they darken his features and bring out the uncharacteristically resigned dullness in his gaze.

The world seems to grind to a chilling halt. Sapnap freezes in place.

"Forgetting?" He prompts, and tries to stop his voice from quivering. "Forgetting what?"

Reluctance is evident in Karl's every blink. Worry flutters in Sapnap's chest.

"Everything." Karl says, steadily. "The past, the future, the present." He hesitates, and the gap between his words lasts light years. "You." An unmistakable weight drapes itself over the silence. "And I think, to an extent, me."

The world resumes its movement. It spins and spins and _spins_ , blurring Sapnap’s vision and twisting hurricanes within his mind, and in the eye of that storm, confusion howls.

"What?" Spills from his throat, "Wh– _why_? How? I don't–"

"The time travelling." Karl blurts. Guilt lines itself over his forehead. "It's taking away my memories."

Their living room is dark. The bleak air from the brewing thunderstorm outside begins to seep in, crawling over their skin and raising gooseflesh. Sapnap has never felt more alone.

“I don’t know how, or why,” Karl confesses, his gaze flitting to fixate on the ground, “but every time I come back it gets harder and harder to remember.”

There’s thunder crashing in Sapnap’s head, cracking loudly in his ears and bellowing in his lungs. Everything is loud, loud, _loud_ , and–

“How long have you known this for?” He demands, pressure like a volcano in his throat. His words are sharp — so sharp that they cut at his own tongue.

 _He's forgetting_ , the wind snarls in his ear, _he’s forgetting you and everything the both of you are_.

“I’ve,” Karl takes in a breath, cheeks pale and hollow in the darkness, “I’ve suspected for a while, but I didn’t know for sure until–”

“ _How. Long._ ” Sapnap growls. Karl flinches. Rain begins to patter onto the roof.

“A month.” Karl whispers.

Something in Sapnap breaks.

“A _month_ –” Incredulity spirals from his throat, spreading disbelief in his chest and wariness into his bones. “And you only thought to tell me _now_?!” 

There’s a soreness in his ribs, a throb that pulses _who knows what other secrets he’s keeping from you_ and _forget, he’s forgetting_ into his veins, igniting anguish in the heart of his chest and torrefying him again and again and _again_.

“You’ve been time-travelling so much this month, too," Sapnap recalls, and betrayal latches bitterly onto the tip of his tongue, "if you knew– why didn't you _stop_? Are you doing this on _purpose_?"

Questions, questions, questions. Sapnap has so many questions. So many _are you sure?_ 's and _you'll forget even me?_ 's he has yet to say, so many clarifications he has to make, but his bleeding heart runs and runs and runs and leaves his mind behind in the marathon.

"I'd _never_ do this on purpose," Karl defends, hurt like blazing fireballs in his eyes, "why would I _ever_ –"

"I don't _know_ anymore, Karl!" Sapnap spits, and all he knows is _red_ and _hurt_ and _Karl_ and _forget_ , "You kept this from me for a _month_! A _whole month_! _Why_?"

The rain is coming down in torrents, now. The loudness seems to be everywhere.

" _I'm_ the only one who can do this, Sapnap," Karl hisses. His gaze holds something broken in it. "I have an _obligation_ –"

"You know damn well that you _don't_." Sapnap says lowly. He's shaking. "I can't _believe_ you."

Karl stares at him. The indignance on his face has dissipated — all that's left is a certain, hollow sort of sorrow.

 _This is Karl_ , Sapnap tries to remind himself, through the chaos in his mind. This is the Karl he knows. This is the Karl he _loves_. This is the Karl he has been with through his best and worst, highs and lows, ups and downs–

 _This is the Karl that won't remember_ , comes the sinking realisation, and Sapnap's throat grows tight.

"I'm sorry," Karl says, words like jagged pieces of glass. 

Sapnap's feet carry him backwards.

 _Leave_ , his body screams, as he takes one unstable step after another. His lungs are hot and coiled and his breaths are so, _so_ short.

Karl's eyes widen. "Where are you going?"

Sapnap's back hits the front door. He tries in vain to keep his breaths even. "Away "

"No–" Karl's voice holds a tinge of ice-blue despair, "Sapnap, _please_ –"

Maybe that's what tips him over the edge — the utteration of his name on Karl's lips, pleading and guilty and regretful, triggering a simple flight-or-flight response in him that buzzes fast and quick under his skin, and then the voices in his head grow _loud_. _I'm forgetting, Sapnap_ , clatters around in his brain, _Everything. You._ rebounds along the concaves of his bones, the world spins, spins, _spins_ , and Sapnap turns, flings the door open, and flees.

* * *

The rain is cold.

It tears at his skin and beats down on his heart, and Sapnap embraces the sense of numbness it brings with open arms.

Out here, in the downpour, the cacophony of voices in his head is drowned out. All Sapnap can hear is the thudding of droplets on his skull, the batter of rain against the muddy grass, and the occasional thunder rolling over the heavens.

It's grounding, in a sense. Earth-binding. 

With water sliding down his back and his hair hanging soppily over his eyes, Sapnap can recollect. Think. Tie himself back to reality and let his emotions run dry.

He's still running.

His feet are unsteady as they squelch through the muddy field; rain falls into his shoes and drenches his socks, making his every step more and more uncomfortable, but he finds he can't bring himself to care about something as insignificant as _comfort_ — not when so much is going on, not when Karl has been lying and Karl is _forgetting_ and–

 _No_ , blazes through his mind, and he runs faster, breathes heavier, grits his teeth tighter as he beelines towards the haven in the woods.

 _So many lies_ , a voice in his head giggles, _I wonder, what other important things are he hiding?_

He plunges through the invisible border separating the woods and the plains, and runs straight into a web of branches.

The thin wooden sticks scratch against the skin of his cheek. It stings, smarting sharply over his cheekbones and leaving a lingering, burning sensation on his face, but it's nothing compared to the everlasting piercing in the middle of his chest, so he pays it no mind.

His feet keep moving.

He doesn't know where he's going or _where_ to go, really.

Karl had always been his guiding compass, the arrow that always pointed to home — wherever he went would be where Sapnap returned to, eventually, because _what is home without Karl?_ What is home without the feeling of a warm body pressed against his, without the taste of cocoa-stained lips and the feel of soft, caramel curls weaved over his fingers?

It's a question Sapnap doesn't have the answers to.

Those answers are answers he hopes he never has to find out.

 _But that's just wishful thinking, isn't it?_ The voice is back. _He's going to forget you soon, forget every single memory and every little smile, he's going to forget that he loves you. That you love him. That you are each other's._

The rain falls louder and harder. 

_You'll be strangers all over again–_

"Shut _up_!" He yells, his feet digging into the ground as he stops, and swings blindly at the nearest tree.

His fist collides against bark and it's as if the skin of his knuckles has been set _aflame_ , prickling and searing and bleeding and _hurting_ , but the pain hushes the voice in his head and reveals the cavity in the deep of his heart.

 _Why?_ He thinks, and then there’s an overwhelming sense of _anger_ that wells up in his lungs and seethes from his every breath, and before he knows it, he’s punching again. His knuckles grate against wood and his skin tears with the force of contact; the bumps on the bark cut into his flesh and chafe the back of his fingers.

The affliction, physical and profuse, brings relief. Distraction.

If he focuses, he can almost forget about the persistent sting in his heart; can almost cover up that raw ache with the grazes on his fingers and the soreness of his legs.

How long has he been out? How long has he been running? Where is he, even?

The forest looks the same no matter where he turns — the sheet of rain obscuring his vision doesn’t help.

 _Why?_ He thinks emptily, eyes burning, and all feeling drains from his body into the drowned grass.

He collapses against the tree. Rainwater mixes with his tears.

Sapnap is tired.

He's so, _so_ tired.

(Of running, of hiding, of being mad, of being lied to, of hurting, of feeling, of _loving_.)

Maybe it's time to go back.

* * *

"You're _okay_ ," is what Karl greets him with at the door.

His hair is tousled, messy. Sapnap recognises that mess as the result of him running his fingers through his hair over and over and over again. 

His heart throbs.

“I was so worried,” Karl continues, voice breathy and delicate.

The air between them is tight. Sapnap forces his lips together and wills himself not to say a word.

And then Karl – sweet, gentle, _kind_ Karl – lifts a trembling hand and presses it to Sapnap’s jaw.

Sapnap stiffens, but doesn’t move away from it.

“You came back,” Karl whispers again, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself, and then his arms are circling Sapnap’s back, and his head is tucking into its usual spot in the crook of Sapnap's neck, bringing them chest to chest, heart to heart.

They are perfect, like this. Even though Sapnap's clothes have been abused by the rain and his skin has been weathered by the edges of nature, even though Karl's shoulders hang with guilt and regret, even though they're hurting and tired and lonely. They're perfect.

"I'm dirty." Sapnap says, hoarse, and tries to hide the crack in his words.

Karl lets out a hiccuped breath against Sapnap’s drenched shirt. "Don't care. Just let me hold you."

And Sapnap lets himself break.

His arms feel weak, useless, even as they find a place around Karl’s waist. He’s shuddering, then, vision blurred with hot, fresh tears as he releases short, blubbering breaths — Karl is shaking too, gripping the back of Sapnap’s shirt with so much force that the cloth is tight against Sapnap’s skin. 

They break — fall apart like broken china pieces in each other’s embrace, and Sapnap has never felt more vulnerable, more weak, but with Karl’s staccatoed breaths against his chest and their hearts beating a steady, beautiful rhythm together, he thinks he’s mending too, all at once.

"I thought you weren't ever gonna come back," Karl spills, and his fingers press into Sapnap’s back with a certain, brittle, sense of heartbreak.

“I’d never abandon you like that,” Sapnap promises, and moves his hands up to tangle within Karl’s hair.

Karl sighs. Leans into his touch in that simple, placid way that makes warmth overflow in his chest.

“You’re hurt, though,” Karl tilts his head back, extracts his arm from where it’s curved around Sapnap’s torso, and ghosts the skin of his thumb over the fresh cut on Sapnap’s cheek.

Sapnap shivers. 

Karl's lip purses with worry. 

"Come here," Karl says softly, tugging on Sapnap's arm as he leads them towards the couch.

A blanket, knitted with cotton and care and Karl's deft fingers – Sapnap still remembers the concentrated look he had had on as he worked out knots in the yarn – is draped across Sapnap's shoulders. The warmth is gratifying, a stark contrast from the bitter chill of the rain, and Sapnap lets relief descend into his bones as comfort begins to layer over his skin.

Karl returns with a medical kit. The couch dips with his weight as he takes a seat to Sapnap's right, fingers already pulling at the buckles of the case and reaching to lift its lid.

The room is quiet while Karl is at work retrieving the bandages. Sapnap tries not to focus on the smarting in his knuckles and opts to trace the outline of Karl's back with his eyes instead.

 _He's pretty_ , Sapnap notes, for the billionth time since the first instance they'd met. He thinks Karl's beauty is the kind of beauty that's eternal. The kind that is present in his every gracious smile, his every tinkling laugh, his every subtle touch. It's a permanent kind of beauty.

Karl brings Sapnap's hand forward and begins patching it up.

Sapnap is no stranger to this, no stranger to the meticulous way Karl cleans the wounds littering his skin, no stranger to the confident way he wraps the gauze around his wrist and over his fingers, no stranger to the little tunes Karl hums to himself as he bandages the consequences of Sapnap's impulsive actions.

Karl pulls with a little too much force. Pain flares, and Sapnap hisses.

There's a beat of silence, out of place and tainted with a crippling sense of discomfort. It's interrupted by the occasional crackling of the fireplace, warm and alive directly opposite the couch.

"I'm sorry," Karl murmurs, and they both know it's not just about the bandage.

"It's fine," Sapnap mumbles back, words dipped in earnestness as he reaches to curl his uninjured fingers around Karl's smooth hands.

Karl's gaze is mixed with uncertainty even as he glances up. Sapnap squeezes his hand, and feels his own heart constrict in return when those brown, soulful eyes turn grateful.

When Karl looks at him like that, Sapnap finds that he's never felt more loved.

They’re close — this closeness isn’t alien to them; it’s a closeness they’ve found themselves at time and time again, but this familiarity doesn’t make the space between their lips feel any less electric.

"You know," Karl says. It’s as if hundreds and thousands of galaxies have been compressed into his voice. "You know what I think?"

“What?” Sapnap replies, mouth dry as he watches the glow of the fireplace warp over Karl’s features.

“I think, even if my mind forgets,” a small, benign beam flits over Karl’s lips, and his eyes gleam with a saturated, treacle-like warmth as he takes Sapnap's uninjured hand to gently rest it across his chest, “my heart will always remember you, Sapnap.”

Karl’s heartbeat is steady and familiar. Under the low, golden lamp lights and the glimmer of the flickering fire, Sapnap thinks he looks like a dying star.

“I won’t let you forget me so easily,” he decides, heart pumping along to a beat crafted from brazenness and defiance, “I’ll stay with you and make _sure_ you remember who I am.”

His eyes bore through Karl’s, and he pours all the belief his soul encompasses into his words. “I’ll make it so that the only way for you to forget me is to _choose_ to.”

Karl looks at him with a smile that’s almost sad.

Sapnap leans in, tilts Karl's chin and lowers their lips to meet, and prays he is enough to keep him from fading.

* * *

On restless nights, they go out.

They do it together, of course, always together. No matter who's the drowsy one, no matter who's the one awake, they always go together.

This night, they're rested in the field outside their house, the green grass cushion against the cotton of their clothes. Sapnap’s running shorts have grass stains all over them, by now, with how long they’ve spent pressed up against the ground. It doesn’t help that he’s lying down, either. 

It’s easier to look at the stars like this, though. There aren’t many out, not tonight, but if he squints he’ll be able to catch just one or two winking back at him from their place high up in the sky.

Karl is curled up against him, head tucked over the crook of his arm as their knees bump against each other. They’re lying together, watching the translucent, grey clouds swoop across the night as cool air presses into their faces, and Sapnap lets the weight on his heart manifest itself into words.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly. Karl goes still beside him.

"Yes…" Is the deliberate answer, slow and unsure, but Sapnap sees right through him. He rolls his head to the side as he gives Karl a look.

Karl continues to feign ignorance. "I don't know why you're looking at me like that," he insists, "I'm perfectly fine."

(For a moment, Sapnap wonders if he's actually forgotten.)

“Don’t lie,” Sapnap tests, hesitant, and is immediately bombarded with relief when the other lets out a low, significant sigh.

The stars are lustreless in the sky. The moon, however, is bright.

“No.” Honesty, raw and fervent, bleeds from Karl’s throat. “Everything is going…” a breath, “so far beyond my control, and it’s like my life is slipping from my own fingers.”

“I can’t–” His voice cracks. Sapnap pulls him closer, tighter. “I don’t know what to do, Sapnap.”

 _Me neither_ , Sapnap wants to say, but the words lodge themselves in the middle of his throat.

Karl shifts. Sits up. Crosses his legs as he turns to face Sapnap fully. His jawline is angular under the moon.

"I don't wanna forget," Karl admits, to the cold wind and the dim sky. His voice sounds so, _so_ fragile.

Sapnap peers up at him, contrasts his face to the desolate heavens, and likens him to a shooting star. Bright, magnificent, but so unbearably fleeting.

"You won't." He assures, locking their gazes with all the courage and sincerity he can muster. Karl’s eyes are like dark honey, sticky and enticing and so easy to get lost in.

(Sapnap wonders when those eyes will cease to recognise him.)

Karl doesn’t seem to believe him. His eyes gloss over and his lips tremble, and Sapnap feels the stifled whimper he lets out sting in the concaves of his chest. 

"C’mere," Sapnap exhales, stretching his arms out, and Karl falls into his side easily, arms splaying out over his stomach as they return to their former position in the grass. Side-to-side, they’re like adjacent puzzle pieces. 

Sapnap relaxes against him, natural and instinctive, and they _fit_. Just like they always do. Just like they always will, even when the last traces of their time together fade from Karl's mind, even when Sapnap's touch becomes foreign and unfamiliar to Karl's skin, even when Karl leaves, leaves Sapnap with empty arms and an emptier heart, with a cold chest and the bittersweet knowledge that _they'd been perfect, once_.

Karl was made to be Sapnap’s and Sapnap was made to be Karl’s. They will always be each other’s, whether the concept is conscious or not.

"You'll try to remember, won't you?" His voice comes out smaller than he wants it to.

Karl nods. Sapnap tries not to cry. "Of course I will." Slim fingers roam over his chest, over his sweater, and they leave trails of moondust in their wake. "I'd give up everything to remember you, Sap."

Sapnap breathes in. Breathes out. Commits every inch of his soul into the immortalisation of this memory.

"Then that's enough for me."

* * *

All the stress accumulates and peaks, at a point, sending them tumbling down and down and _down_ the rabbit hole of regrets and shame with each passing word. 

(In hindsight, Sapnap really should've seen it coming. Bottled up emotions and thoughts rarely ever lead to good things.)

Sapnap wakes, in the middle of the night, to the rustling of Karl slipping on his backpack, to the empty space next to him on the bed. 

He sits up. Looks at Karl, frozen in the doorway with guilt prominent in his every quiet breath.

"You're leaving." Sapnap states. _Again_. His tongue feels thick.

"I…" Karl shuffles his feet. "It's just a short one."

Sapnap almost wants to laugh. "The last time you said ' _short_ ', you were gone for three days and came back with a sprained ankle."

Karl falls silent. He doesn't look at Sapnap, and Sapnap feels the weight of nothingness latch onto his heart and pull it lower, lower, lower.

"Don't go." He clutches at the blankets, trains his eyes on the bed sheets, and lets his thoughts fall from his lips.

Karl sighs. The sound is familiar — they've been through this argument many, _many_ times before.

"I can't, Sap," he says, sounding tired, and Sapnap grips the bed sheets tighter. "You know that."

"You keep saying you don't want to forget," even without looking, Sapnap can feel the way Karl tenses. _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ his brain commands, but his mouth burns, and the words spill out, "then why do you keep _leaving_?"

These are the thoughts Sapnap keeps to himself. The thoughts that roam in his head and in their – sometimes empty – bedroom late at night. The thoughts he'd never planned on speaking aloud.

"I have a duty," Karl says at last, and his words crumble to ash within Sapnap's chest, "you know it's not that simple–"

"Duty, duty, duty," Sapnap chants. His tone comes out unintentionally mocking. "It's _always_ about your duty." His voice raises, and fire scrapes at the insides of his throat. "When is it about _me_? About _us_?" He takes in a breath. Swallows the sting that rises in his mouth. "Exactly how important is _this_ to you, Karl? Sometimes I wonder."

The breath that passes through the other's lips is sharp, hurt.

"You know I'm trying my best," Karl protests, and Sapnap knows, knows the silent apology in the weight of his head on Sapnap's chest on the mornings of his returns, knows the guilt in the honeyed kisses he presses to Sapnap's lips right before he's about to announce another travel, knows the meaning in the lingering hugs he wraps around Sapnap's torso in the moments before he walks through the front door and into another time.

Sapnap sighs. Aches.

"The world's problems aren't for you to fix," he says, and he's _exhausted_. "Stop trying to be a _hero_ –"

" _Trying to be a hero_?" Karl takes a step away. His silhouette is small within the door frame. "I'm just trying to _help_ , Sapnap, I'm just trying to right some wrongs–"

"Fine!" The fire raging in Sapnap's stomach roars. "Go, then! Right your wrongs! Forget! Do whatever you goddamn _want_ , Karl, because you _obviously_ don't care about m– _us_ as much as you say you do."

His breathing is heavy when he finishes his tirade. The silence separate from his breaths seeps into his bones and brings guilt – an old friend, at this point – along with it.

"You know what?" Karl whispers eventually, his voice strong but shaky, "Maybe I _will_."

The door shuts gently. (Karl can't bring himself to slam the door even when he's mad, and Sapnap thinks a little part of him shatters at that realisation.) Their room is drenched, once again, in darkness.

With nothing but the empty air and the bedsheets for company, Sapnap allows himself to cry.

* * *

Karl comes home after two days. 

When he does, Sapnap pretends the living room hadn't been littered with mugs of coffee – that he'd used to keep himself awake those two nights – just moments earlier, pretends the pillows in their bedroom hadn't been stained wet with tears mere hours ago, pretends the walls of their house hadn't been privy to the careful tests of " _I'm sorry_ " and " _I didn't mean it_ " on his tongue in almost every single moment Karl had been gone.

They stare at each other for a while.

Karl, shoulders slumped with the fatigue that always accompanies the time-travels, and Sapnap, sleep deprived and a numb emptiness oozing beneath his skin.

Karl looks vulnerable. Hesitant. Sapnap hates that look on him.

He holds his arms out wordlessly, and Karl very visibly melts, stepping into his hold like it's the only place he ever wants to be in.

They don't talk about it, and nothing is okay, but with Karl's hair tickling his neck and his nose against the skin of Karl's shoulder, Sapnap thinks he can pretend.

* * *

The days pass. That night's events are packaged and stored away in the dusty corner of subjects-never-to-be-broached, and life goes on. Sapnap jokes, Karl jokes back, but they always make sure to steer clear from the shadowy subject of time-travel.

Sapnap begins to find that they spend a lot of time together outside.

Fingers interlaced, shoulder against shoulder, Sapnap's hearty laughs mixed with Karl's bright giggles — they're a duo.

With every second that he spends with Karl, Sapnap thinks he falls a little further, a little faster. It gets to the point where every breath without Karl by his side is a breath wasted, every night without Karl snuggled up next to him is a night's sleep gone — every day, night, hour, minute is _Karl, Karl, Karl_ , and Sapnap comes to the quick realisation that he's nothing without the other man, nothing without tan eyes and caramel hair, nothing without soft lips and gentle chuckles and the unwavering scent of chocolate.

 _You're setting yourself up for more than you've bargained for_ , the sensible side of him warns, but all he needs is a glance at the ethereality of Karl's beam, and all reason slips from his mind like morning dew from the dip of the tree leaves.

They're skywatching, this time. 

From the top of the hill they're on, the sky dissolves into a gooey gradient of dark blues and purples and pinks. Stars slowly come to life, blinking hushedly behind the lace-like clouds as the sun is slowly engulfed by the horizon. Sapnap thinks they're like the little speckles of fondness he catches in Karl's eyes sometimes — tender and mild but so, _so_ pretty.

Like this — their backs pressed against the bumpy bark of the oak tree, Sapnap's arm taken hostage by Karl to be used as a makeshift bolster, they're comfortable. The beginnings of the night breeze start to tease at his cheeks, and Sapnap thinks they should pack up and leave as the light does, but he can't bring himself to break the moment. To ruin the peaceable, content look on Karl's face, to bring an end to this rare moment of frangibility.

So he waits. Lets the night brush across the canvas of the sky and savours the feel of Karl's skin against his.

"Promise me something, yeah?" Karl hums, pulling Sapnap's arm closer to his chest as he leans further into Sapnap's side, and Sapnap mollifies against him effortlessly.

"Anything." He says, hoarse. _Everything_.

Karl smiles. It's poignant. 

"If–" He pulls in a breath, "If I forget." His hand slips lower and moves to caress Sapnap's fingers. "Promise me you'll find someone else."

 _Someone else_ , he says. As if there can ever be another person that lights fireworks in Sapnap's chest the way he does. As if there will ever be another person who laughs and smiles and _fits_ the way he does.

"Anything but that." The words leave Sapnap's lips as an imploration.

Karl slots their fingers together, and Sapnap feels a sense of something akin to perfection – something he _knows_ he'll never be able to feel anywhere else – click into place. "Please."

The wind bites at his skin. 

"Don't be stupid," he murmurs breathily, tugging the other closer towards his chest, "I don't need anyone else if I have you."

"But you won't _always_ have me, will you?" Karl cuts in, voice shaking, and it's almost accusing. "One day– One day I'm going to _forget_ , and I don't want you to waste your life trying to–"

Sapnap thinks, sometimes, that he'll be able to get used to the sharp aches that are perpetual beneath his ribs, in his lungs, but all it takes is a few words from Karl to erase all the numbness from his soul and send needles of hurt stabbing straight through his heart.

"You're not replaceable like that." He croaks, hoping beyond hope that the veracity smarting beneath his skin is conveyed in his tone, "You're _Karl_. _My_ Karl. There's nobody else like you."

"But–" Karl looks pained, and Sapnap moves in closer. Their foreheads bump together gently as Sapnap shoots him a flickering smile.

"No 'but's." If there's one thing Sapnap would put his life on and swear truth to, it'd be this. "You're the only one I'll ever want and the only one I'll ever need."

A choked sob slips from Karl's lips. Sapnap watches as his eyelashes begin to glisten. "Honest?"

Sapnap nods. His grin is watery. "Honest."

Under the shadowed sky and the sparkling stars, Karl kisses him — salty, slow, and _so_ , sadly, sweet.

* * *

"Guess who," Sapnap whispers. His hands slide around the sides of Karl's head and cover his eyes. Karl's skin is smooth beneath his fingers, and Sapnap can feel his smile push against the heels of his palms.

"Really?" Karl huffs, half a laugh. "Are you really doing this now?"

Sapnap grins, wide and brilliant. "Shut up and guess, Karl." 

The evening air swoops in and fills their living room with lightheartedness. The sunlight settles onto Sapnap's skin and warms it, bringing an out-of-place heat on spots of his cheeks and patches on his upper arms.

Karl, pen poised over the pages of his memory journals, lets slip a stream of chuckles that fizz over Sapnap’s chest. Sapnap resists the urge to brush his lips over the curls of Karl’s hair against his ear and the nebula of freckles dusted across Karl’s lower arms.

“Do I really have to?” Karl whines. His voice is tinged with a pale pink embarrassment. “It’s…”

Sapnap snickers, and Karl’s hands dart out to blindly swat at him.

“ _Guess who_ , Karl,” he sing-songs anyway, dodging away from Karl’s playful swings, but ultimately falls victim to the light thud of fingers against his shoulder. 

Karl lets his hands fall back to his sides as soon as he lands the hit. “Let me finish writing first, at least?”

The beseech in his words almost makes Sapnap give in. However, he presses his hands closer against Karl’s eyelids and stands his ground. “No.”

“But I already know who you are!” Karl exclaims, twisting his head around in Sapnap’s hold. “Let me finish writing-”  
  
“Nuh-uh,” Sapnap shakes his head resolutely. Affection bursts in his chest as he stares fondly down at Karl’s struggling figure. “I’m not letting you go until you say my name.”

“Come _on_ ,” Karl grouses. Sapnap feels his lips turn up into a pout. “Really?”

“Really.” Sapnap affirms. He wriggles his fingers against Karl's face, and hears the smile infused into the resulting exhale.

" _Fine_ ," Karl's cheeks are still curved against Sapnap's palms in a grin, and he inhales, puffs up his chest, raises his shoulders in a way that tells Sapnap of the word up and coming on his mouth, "S–"

And then silence.

Karl's posture is rigid. Fixed. Sapnap feels his lungs go small.

The breeze has stopped. The air is frozen and Sapnap thinks Karl has frozen right along with it, as he holds his breath and waits for _something_.

"Karl?" Sapnap prods gently, when the silence drags on too long.

Karl cracks like fallen marble. "I– No, wait, I swear–" he breathes, and the sound of his exhale is frantic; panicked. "I swear I didn't–"

Sapnap pauses, takes in the quiet and tense atmosphere, takes in the piercing highness of Karl's voice and the nervousness and shallow depth to Karl's breaths and thinks, _oh_.

Slowly, numbly, he moves to withdraw his hands. The world grows muted and his chest feels too big for his heart, fear seizes his voice and holds it captive in its thin, spindly hands, and he thinks the colours in the world seem to slowly drain away.

Lightning fast, Karl covers his hands with his own and presses them tighter against his eyes.

"I swear I didn't forget," he rambles, an ounce of desperation lathered onto his words, "there's no way I would have forgotten something like that. Please. It's on the tip of my tongue, I– I just know it, _please_ –"

And Sapnap wants, so fervently, to believe him.

To believe that Karl isn't forgetting, to believe that the time-travelling isn't chipping away at Karl's memories and pulling them further and further apart, to believe that _this_ isn't a sign of the state they've fallen into, to believe that Karl _remembers_.

He flattens his hands against Karl's lashes, and feels his skin turn wet.

"I remember it," Karl begs, "I remember _you_. There's no way I've actually–"

Sapnap steps in. "Karl."

It turns quiet. 

Sapnap hates the quiet.

Karl's hands are limp over his own. Sapnap pushes them away and extracts his hands accordingly.

Karl doesn't turn to face him. "I'm sorry."

There's a cavity in Sapnap's chest. It's a black hole that eats and eats and eats away at his heart until there's nothing left but the rotten remains of hurt and dregs of a painful, tiring, but bitterly beautiful love.

"It's Sapnap." He says at last.

Karl, pale and unmoving, still refuses look at him. The living room is still silent.

Sapnap fucking hates the silence.

* * *

He spends that night awake and waiting for Karl to knock on their bedroom door, for Karl to climb into their too-big, too-cold bed and lay his head on the pillow next to Sapnap's, for Karl to press a chaste goodnight kiss to his cheek before falling into slumber, like he always does.

None of that happens.

The lights outside – that leak into their bedroom through the crack beneath the door – never turn off and Karl's side of the bed never sinks to accommodate its owner's weight, and no matter how many times Sapnap tosses and turns, he can't fall asleep.

* * *

In the morning, Sapnap finds Karl resting on the couch with an open, overturned journal on his stomach

This one is different from the rest — there's a dainty blue flower – a forget-me-not, Sapnap recalls, chest throbbing – taped to its cover, soft and fresh and delicate as it rests against the leather.

Gently, quietly, Sapnap picks up the journal and turns it around.

Scribbled over the two pages visible is a single word — _Sapnap_.

 _Sapnap, Sapnap, Sapnap, Sapnap_ , is all that can be seen, filling up the pages and covering the blanks with dark ink. Everywhere he looks is just _Sapnap_ , and he can almost see it — see Karl furiously etching the word into paper, futilely trying to etch it into his _memory_ , see the concentrated look on his face and see the frustration weighing on his lips. Sapnap glances down at the book again, and notes how some of the words are smudged. He tries not to think about what had caused it.

With an aching chest and a burning in his lungs, Sapnap lets his gaze fall on Karl's sleeping figure, lets it follow the discrete rise and fall of the other's chest, lets it outline the curve of his nose and the shape of his lips, and allows it to linger on the pale smoothness of his cheek and the lenient arches of his brows.

He's going to miss this, he thinks.

In the silent morning and the lonely living room, Sapnap thumbs the pages of the journal.

His tears are soundless as they drip onto the paper.

* * *

There are normal days, of course.

Normal days where they wake up tangled in each other's arms, normal days where they kiss each other 'good morning' and debate spending the day in bed, normal days where Karl makes breakfast for the both of them – bigger portions for Sapnap and smaller portions for himself, since he doesn't eat much in the mornings – and they eat together at the table, the clinking of glassware against metal bouncing off the walls.

Karl's unusually silent, today.

His food is sitting, untouched, on his plate, and Sapnap can feel those light brown eyes on him, watching his every move as he slowly takes in his breakfast.

It goes on for a while, the watching. Karl stares and Sapnap lets it happen, knowing with a special, unwavering certainty that if anything is wrong, Karl will tell him.

"I love you," is what bursts out from Karl's throat eventually, and the affection that bubbles in Sapnap’s lungs with the announcement of those three words is sour yet saccharine. "You know that, right?"

Sapnap sets down his utensils and looks up.

The morning sun’s rays shimmer over Karl’s skin, tracing glitter over the curls and waves of his raw-sienna hair, and Sapnap lets his gaze roam over the contours of Karl’s face, lets his mind sear this image of Karl – pretty, perfect, still-remembering – into a permanent spot in his being.

A part of him wants to pause and stare forever, but he pulls himself back and tears his eyes away from each flutter of Karl’s lashes to settle them on Karl’s hand, lonely and half-of-a-whole on the other end of the table. 

He’s reaching over in a second, grasping familiar fingers in his and rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of Karl’s palm. The action, minute but personal, brings a little piece of solace into his soul.

"I know." He replies firmly. "I never doubted it, even for a second."

Karl grins, his smile encompassing the brightness of millions and millions of suns, and Sapnap permits himself to think, for a moment, that everything will be okay.

(It's a lie. A lie he's painfully aware of, but keeps feeding his mind anyway.)

* * *

“What are you writing this time?” Sapnap asks, peering over Karl’s shoulder.

Karl buzzes his lips in acknowledgement, pausing in his writings for Sapnap to press a quick kiss to his temple. “Just something that came to mind," he picks up his quill and begins to twirl it between his fingers, "wanted to jot it down before it… y'know."

Sapnap scans the page. (For a moment, lines after lines of his name flashes before his eyes, but he shakes the memory away.) He's always admired Karl's handwriting, has always loved the simple way he curled the tails of his 'a's and the hollow circles he drew in place of the dots above his 'i's, has always adored every fluid stroke of his letters and every neat curve of his commas.

"So what's this memory about?" Sapnap nudges, and Karl's eyes light up.

"It's about–" a break. Karl's grin falters. "About… I…"

Sapnap's stomach drops.

"I can't remember."

The shine from Karl's gaze is gone. His quill leaves his fingers and flops against the table.

Sapnap hurts.

Karl stands up, pushes his chair back, and moves towards the direction of their room.

Sapnap steps in front of him, opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ , when Karl suddenly stops. Those hazelnut eyes seem to glaze over.

"Karl?" Sapnap asks, tentative. There's an ominous feeling creeping up his neck.

"Who–" Karl pauses. His gaze is unfocused. "Who are you?"

Sapnap's heart plummets.

"No, no, _no,_ " he murmurs, and it's as if the sun has died and gravity has flipped, "no, Karl, not now, not like _this_ –"

 _He's forgotten_ , the wicked voice in his head cackles, plunging his heart straight into frost-cold frenzy, _he's forgotten you now, just like you always thought he would_ –

"No!" He snaps, and panic snatches the reins of his control, driving his shaking hands to cradle Karl's cheeks.

" _Karl_ ," he pleads, desperate and broken and willing to do _anything_ , "don't you remember? It's me. Sapnap."

"Sap…nap…" Karl echoes emptily, and Sapnap _hurts_.

"You know me," he coos, blind terror gripping at his throat and choking up his windpipe, "Pandas? Sap? Sappitus Nappitus? Sappy Nappy?"

"Sapnap…" Karl says again, this time with more surety, and Sapnap searches his eyes urgently for any signs of recognition.

" _Your_ Sapnap," he tries, another time, vision blurring with barely-held tears, and despair latches onto his soul, pulling it deep within the chasms of despondency and drowning him the thick, tart waters of sorrow. "I'm _your_ Sapnap, Karl, _please_ –"

And the rest of his words die on his tongue as his throat closes in on itself, leaving him mute and struggling and _yearning_. Reality comes crashing down, then, its cruel fingers pressing into his heart and _squeezing_ , and Sapnap can't feel anything except the sweeping torment beneath his ribs and the thorns poking through his flesh.

 _Please_ , he seeks, fingers swiping over Karl’s cheekbones, _I’m not ready to lose you_.

Karl’s eyes are murky. Confusion and emptiness swims within his gaze, and it’s a far, _far_ cry from the usual jubilance and nothing-will-get-me-down that is usually present, and the longer Sapnap stares at him, the more it _hurts_. 

“Sapnap.” Karl says again, but it feels different this time. The glassiness to his eyes is gone and the cloudiness in his irises seems to have lifted.

Relief, cool and immense, tides over. Sapnap shifts his hands to rest on Karl’s shoulders, and commands his legs not to collapse.

"Oh my _God_ ," Karl blinks, and it's like he's just woken up from a bad dream. " _Sapnap_." His face slowly twists with horror as realisation begins to sink in, and Sapnap feels so, so _weak_.

"I almost–" Karl's hand flies to his mouth, and Sapnap tears his gaze away from the other's eyes. "I–"

Karl stumbles backwards. His fingers grapple for support on the chair, and Sapnap has never felt at such a _loss_.

"I almost…" Karl breathes, disbelieving, posture tense and taut like a string about to snap, “I almost…”

And Sapnap can scarcely accept it too, can hardly understand how _fast_ it had been, how _close_ he'd come to losing Karl forever, how _easy_ it had been for Karl to slip away, and he's never felt this scared in his _life_.

There's an almost unhinged look in Karl's eyes, a look that speaks volumes of the sandstorm buckling in his mind, and Sapnap still feels petrified, still feels dazed and desensitised, but pulls himself together, thinks, _Karl needs me_ , and steps forward, arms outstretched.

“ _Almost_ ,” he emphasises, but his voice wobbles. “You haven’t forgotten yet.”

Karl’s unbalanced laughter reminds Sapnap of tightrope walking. “ _Yet_. Sap, I–” A piercing, heart-splintering noise emerges from his throat. “I don’t _want_ to forget.”

“I don’t want _any_ of this,” he continues to babble, and the chair clatters to the side as he collapses onto the floor, “I don’t want this… this _burden_ , I don’t want to feel obligated, I don’t want to feel guilty every time I try to do _anything_.”

“No, no, _no,_ ” Sapnap mumbles, drawing closer, but Karl rattles on like a speeding train with broken brakes.

“I can’t do _anything_ right.” Karl whispers, bringing his knees up to his chest, and Sapnap settles down before him, reaching to pull Karl’s face into his chest as the other man's composure begins to crumble.

"I don't want to _forget_ , Sapnap," Karl divulges acridly, and he repeats the words like they're a prayer — like by repeating them he'd stop himself from forgetting. "I don't want to forget, I don't want to forget, I don't want to for _get_ –"

And Sapnap holds him. Presses him to his heart as tightly as possible and tries not to fall apart.

"It's okay," he hushes, dragging his fingers through Karl's hair, "it's okay. It's going to be okay, Karl. It's okay."

Karl comes apart in his arms, and Sapnap feels himself break.

"It's okay," he continues resolutely, shutting his eyes to the world and closing his ears to the oceans and oceans of agony within Karl's sobs, but no matter how much he tries, his heart never coats those two words in the truth he so desperately needs, and his words still drop as empty promises. "It's okay." 

It's not.

* * *

Karl leaves again.

He’d been adamant on this one, even though Sapnap had screamed and cried and _begged_ for him not to go, to stay, he’s _barely remembering events of the past week as it is, if he time-travels again–_

 _It’s too important_ , Karl had said in return, mournful eyes withholding mountains and mountains of trepidation, and Sapnap had snapped.

 _And me?_ He’d shot back, words poison on his tongue, _am I not important to you?_

Karl had fixed him with a long look. A look that had spoken volumes of the things he knew and Sapnap didn’t. A look that, Sapnap thinks, had only widened the impossible distance between them.

 _More than anything in the world_ , Karl had said, then. _It’s because you’re important to me that I have to do this_.

And Sapnap is unable to do anything but wait.

He sleeps in the portal room, now. 

The smoothstone wall he’s laid his beanbag before is unwavering and unflinching. No matter how many times he’s pounded his fists against it, no matter how many times he’s poked and prodded and pushed, it refuses to ripple into that swirling surface of teal and purple that he’d seen his lover pass through.

 _He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was the only one that could do this_ , is the realisation he comes to, as he stares at the stone and hopes, from a distant corner of his mind, that it’ll somehow open and let him in.

(It doesn’t, of course. But he tries anyway.)

One night turns into another. The days trickle by, uneventful and, as far as Sapnap is concerned, unimportant, and before he knows it, two weeks have passed.

Sapnap has never been good with being alone — by himself, he’s vulnerable. ‘What-if’s tumble from his mind like a waterfall; ‘maybe’s swoop around in his head like vultures. In this portal room, this _cave_ , surrounded by damp, echoey walls and his thoughts, he thinks he’s slowly driving himself insane.

Everywhere he looks is stone, stone stone. Every night he wakes up in cold sweat, reaching for chestnut brown hair and a bright, bell-like giggle, only to be grasping at thin air, every day is the same, same, same routine, and Sapnap thinks he’s losing his mind.

It’s so much harder than he’s ever thought it would be, without Karl.

( _I miss you_ , is what he tells the stone wall every day. _Come back_ , is what he whispers at night.)

He tries not to leave the portal room in fear of missing the moment Karl comes back, and he doesn’t find another place to stay either. (The smell of dusty books and old wood in the cover-up library would probably reap at his sanity far faster than this cold cave, and home just reminds him too much of Karl.) Occasionally, when the stuffiness gets too much, though, when everything is too greyscale and he needs a quick gulp of fresh air, he allows himself to get up and breathe.

He doesn’t let it get to that point very often. He just wants Karl to come home.

Everything happens just as it usually does, today. 

He’s been running low on food for a while, so he’d gone up to the surface to grab a few more bags of bread and water before making his way back down.

He knows the route to the portal room by heart, now. 

The top right corner of the cover-up library has a bookshelf. All Sapnap has to do is reach and tug on the average-looking, auburn-leathered book on the middle shelf, wait for the machinery to whirr and for the hidden passageway to reveal itself, then pass through the journal room and open the trapdoor, climb down rungs after rungs of ladders, and touch down on the bumpy stone of the cave floor.

He wonders, for the millionth time, how many times Karl had gone down here, alone, too. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can almost hear those familiar feet alongside his, can almost feel the brush of fingers on his arm, can almost hear the chiming of aureate laughter in his ear.

There’s a certain, subtle smarting in his chest that comes with these phantom sensations, something that swells and ebbs beneath his skin of its own free will, leaving a gnawing in his heart and a sting of loneliness in his ribs.

His feet push off the last ladder and tap against the cave floor. 

That's when he hears it.

It's elusive, indistinct, but Sapnap thinks he’d recognise it anywhere — this whooshing, windy sort of sound, like a mixture of waves crashing and wind rustling the tree leaves.

It's a sound he's never heard anywhere else.

 _Karl_ , he thinks, and his heart jumps.

 _Karl_ , he thinks, as he whirls around and sprints in the direction of the portal, springing off ledges without a care and letting adrenaline pump in his blood as he takes off towards that swirling mass of colour, towards home, towards salvation, towards _Karl_.

 _Karll_ , he thinks again, and he’s almost giddy. _Karl. Karl, Karl, Karl, Karl, Karl–_

The portal comes into view. Sapnap pants as his eyes scan the cave for that familiar figure immediately, and his knees, weak and _shaking_ , almost give out when his gaze finally lands on an achingly familiar head of brown hair.

“ _Karl_ ,” tumbles from his lips, and then he’s moving again, mind with a singular purpose as he draws closer and closer and _closer_ , because Karl’s _okay_. Karl’s _back_ , and everything is going to be _fine_. Sapnap can do _anything_ with Karl by his side, can fight any monster and scale every mountain, can cross any ocean and destroy every–

And then Karl opens his mouth and speaks.

"I'm sorry," is what he says, painfully polite and unbearably distant, "do I know you?"

And as the sky shatters and falls to pieces by Sapnap's ears, through the ringing in his ears and the paralysis in his limbs, all his eyes can focus on are the three forget-me-nots Karl has gripped in his fist — so, _so_ blue but so, _so_ nostalgic.

 _I won't let you forget_ — the promise he'd made, all that while ago.

Sapnap wonders when of the two of them, he became the liar.

**Author's Note:**

> my mind bluescreened and Angsted so hard after seeing [ac c0pixs'](https://twitter.com/c0pixs) art on twitter!! more specifically, [this one](https://twitter.com/c0pixs/status/1355692790395637760) :)) it's genuinely so stunning and i deadass teared up and started dry sobbing over it ngl SJDHSDJ please go check ac out please please please her art is always so magnificent and i have no words to describe how much i love it :]
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed the fic shafjkha thank you i love you :] 
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vrealitical) if you wanna :D 
> 
> karlnap is The Superior Ship and that is All thank you for coming to my ted talk


End file.
